


This Is a Stickup!

by DelilahBlueEyes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahBlueEyes/pseuds/DelilahBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>somethingstately prompted: Rum was injured in the Civil War twenty-five years ago, but now he's a railroad robber baron. Belle is one of his maids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For you, sister, it shall be done.

"Good evening." Isabelle looked up from the book she’d been drowsing over to see a man in a mask leaning casually against the edge of the door frame of her compartment. He wore plain, earth-toned clothes, though his boots shone too brightly to belong to a common man. She carefully placed the scrap of silk she used as a bookmark between the pages she’d been reading and closed the book, folding her hands over it in her lap.

"Good evening, sir," she replied, as levelly and politely as she could. She’d heard the reports of the multiple robberies in this area, but she’d needed to get to the Gold estate somehow after a visit to her father. The train was the fastest so she’d decided to rise it. Obviously that risk hadn’t paid off.

"What’s a lovely thing like you doing traveling along at night?" the stranger asked with a suppressed grin. He crossed his ankles and tipped his head up slightly down so that his hair swung forward and he was looking up at her through his lashes. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous about these parts?"

"It’s dangerous around every part, sir, but does that mean I should hole up in my house and never explore the places I want to go?" She took a mental stock of her valuables as she spoke, trying to remember where she’d placed the small purse that contained the roll of money her father had sent her off with. If she just handed it over, perhaps she would be left unharmed. Charming as this strange man was, she was not unaware of what could become of the victims of train robberies— especially women.

"A very good point, love," he murmured, his mouth quirking into a full smile that sparked something in her mind. There was something about that smile that was so familiar to her. “I do admire a brave woman."

She frowned at that and lifted her carpet bag onto her lap, pulling apart the handles and beginning to dig through it for her money. She could feel the robber watching her with keep interest, though she did not look at him again until she had the small purse in her hand, offering it up to him with a raised eyebrow. He gave a low chuckle as he stepped further into her cabin that raised gooseflesh on her arms.

"What a delightfully obliging victim you are, miss. It’s very refreshing. Usually women scream or faint or cry." He stopped before her and closed his gloved hand around her own, turning it over to place a lingering kiss on her knuckles as he took the purse from her. “But I think that necklace looks a tad more valuable than this so I’ll be generous and leave you the money."

Belle’s eyes widened as her hand flew to her throat in panic, as if he’d reach out and snap the chain if she didn’t protect it from him. Just as he leaned forward over her seat, probably to do just that, the train lurched forward and tumbled him over her. He came down awkwardly and she couldn’t help but raise her arms, both to keep him from crushing her but also because he hissed in pain when his leg jostled against the edge of the bench. 

"Fucking shite!" he growled, a hand on the wall to either side of her as he wobbled for a moment before dropping to his knees. She’d opened her mouth to ask if he was alright but all that came out was a gasp. His head came up like a startled deer and he watched her warily as she lifted one hand from his chest to touch the edge of his mask.

"M-mr. Gold?" he whispered, and knew it was true even before she’d said it. The way he’d smiled at her, the familiar brogue that wrapped around his words when he’d cursed after knocking his old war injury just moments ago. He smelled faintly of oiled leather and sandalwood and she realized suddenly how close he was, looking more afraid of her than she did of him. His eyes were warm and wide behind his mask and she knew the urge to push his hair back and try to see them more clearly.

"Yes, dearie, it’s me." He smiled weakly, though it faded when she drew further back into the corner, not that there was far for her to go. “Are you going to scream now?"

"Heavens, no! But- Mr. Gold, whatever are you doing robbing commuters on a train? I don’t understand!"

"How do you think I got my fortune, Belle? I was a lowly foot soldier fighting for the unity of a country I’d just become a citizen of. I was never well off before I was crippled, but afterward it became harder and harder to find work. I used the resources I had to get what I could. Plenty of people who use the train system can afford to lose a few of their trinkets now and then."

His mention of trinkets had her clutching her throat again, remembering that he’d been eyeing her necklace before. He noticed and moved his hands from the backrest of the bench to the seat to either side of her thighs. It helped to lessen the feeling that he was looming over her without giving her any hope that she could have escaped, even if she’d wanted to.

"Is that bauble important to you, love?" He jerked his chin toward her necklace and she clutched it harder, tamping down the urge to blush at his casual use of the word love. She nodded and look at him pleadingly and he sighed. “Alright, then. You may keep it. But you’ll have to lose something in this little exchange."

She glanced down at the purse sitting ignored at her side and back at him only to find he was staring at the book in her lap. He was smirking now, his finger lifting to stroke along the silk she was using as a bookmark. 

"Don’t you have a dress this color?" he murmured and she was too distracted by his finger hovering over the apex of her thighs, separated by a few layers of fabric and leather, to answer. He knew for a fact that She did, he’d often sat at his desk and told her amusing little anecdotes while he watched her dust in that dress. She’d made it and the silk was just left over fabric that she’d been loathe to part with. 

"So, if you aren’t going to take my necklace or my money, what is it that you—Mmph!" She gave a surprised squeak in the back of her throat as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, one hand grasping her chin between thumb and forefinger to keep her still, though she had no thought of moving away from him. He was warm and firm against her and his lips parted to allow the tip of his tongue to graze her lower lip. She opened her mouth to gasp without thought, nearly biting him in shock when he flicked his tongue against her teeth, closing his teeth around her bottom lip for a moment before pulling away. She hadn’t realized her eyes had slipped shut until he ran something soft over the lip he’d just bitten and she opened her eyes blearily to see him holding her bookmark in one gloved hand, an entirely too self satisfied grin on his face.

"I believe this will do as payment for tonight, pretty thing. But be prepared for a higher price the next time I catch you on one of my trains." And with that he bounded up and was gone.

Belle raised one hand to tentatively press against her tingling mouth, not quite able to reconcile herself with the fact that her devilishly handsome employer had just robbed her of a kiss rather than take her jewelry and money. It struck her as well that his “higher price" would likely be along the same lines as that kiss. Oh, dear. She inhaled deeply and reached for her book, deciding that it would be better to think on that later. As well as what underthings would be least humiliating for him to find her wearing, if indeed he decided to commit high way robbery when next they met outside of his estate.

It was only when she turned her book to locate her page that she remembered he’d stolen her bookmark and left her to find her page on her own. That bastard, she thought with a pleased smile.


	2. Drafty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle meets her thief once again and they work some things out.

“Well, the ol’ grump is awake and demanding his breakfast.” Granny sat heavily on her stool by the kitchen door and sighed as she rubbed at her sore knees. “Someone will have to take it up to him, and his medicine too. Two pills today, he says he knocked his knee yesterday and it’s hurting. ‘Course, he never seems to worry about my knees.”

“I’ll take it up, Granny.” Belle volunteered as calmly as she could, catching Ruby’s grateful glance as she huddled by the oven in the cool weather. She was told that this was an unusually cool autumn for Maine, but then again, to a girl from Australia everywhere in America was a touch chilly. She set her book on the counter and stood from her cushion, brushing the crumbs from her own breakfast from her skirt. The tray shook as she set off up the stairs to the main floor and she paused at the top of the servant’s stair to take a few calming breaths. She hadn’t set eyes on her employer once since the previous day when he’d nearly robbed her of her mother’s necklace and instead stolen… she blushed to admit it to herself, but he’d stolen her first kiss. Sure, she’d played at sweethearts with the neighboring boy, Gaston, but he’d only ever pressed his too moist lips to her cheek or knuckles. This kiss, though, had been perfectly warm and firm and sent prickling tingles from her lips straight into her lower abdomen. She felt hot just thinking about it and tried to think instead of the mending she had to do later. Her father was hopeless with a needle and always had a few socks or breeches that needed her care.

 

The door to his study was cracked open and swung easily inward at the nudge of her toes. She kept her head lowered toward the lush carpet, though her eyes flitted around the large room as she crossed it. Finding it apparently empty, she paused before the great oaken beast of a desk to look longingly up at the ceiling tall bookshelves that framed it and sighed.

“You do enjoy your books, don’t you?” The murmur in her ear startled her so badly that the heavy silver tray nearly slipped through her fingers. A warm pair of arms came up outside hers, large hands slipping under the gilt edges beneath the handles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Liar,” she accused, shivering faintly when his answering chuckle vibrated pleasantly against her back. He helped her set the tray safely away from the edge of the desk and she thanked him quietly but he didn’t step away.

“You never answered my question.” His breath rushed over the side of her face when he spoke and she turned slightly toward him with a questioning sound. “Books, Belle. You love books, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly, pulling her shawl closer around herself.

His hands had slowly lowered from the tray to settle restlessly against the polished wood, still nearly wrapped around her. The sleeves of his fine silk shirt hung loosely around his wrists and contrary to what she would have thought, his hands and wrists were curiously nearly devoid of jewelry. Just a single silver band set with a twinkling garnet. Curiously humble for a baron, but perhaps the risk of wearing stolen jewelry and having it recognized was too great. She was distracted from her thoughts by the feeling of something touching her hair and she heard him inhale. Gooseflesh broke out over her scalp and neck when she realized that he was breathing her in.

“Have you thought better of your decision, Belle?” he breathed against her ear, still nuzzling ghostly touches of his nose against her hair. “Have you decided to turn me in after all?”

She sighed and tipped her head forward until she couldn’t feel the tentative touches any more. “No, I haven’t. And if you’ve decided to threaten me to guarantee my silence, I am very disappointed in you, Mr. Gold.”

There was a few moments silence before the hands on the tabletop before her moved toward each other, thumbs overlapping as his forearms pressed lightly against her sides and exhaled gently against her shoulder.

“My name is Anthony.” It was what she imagined to be an attempt at an apology. That and the decidedly hesitant embrace he’d begun worked to alleviate some of her annoyance. Heat seeped from his frame into hers everywhere their bodies touched and she found herself tempted to pull his arms tighter around herself and finally be warm in the big drafty mansion. “And does it feel like I’m threatening you, love?”

Belle felt her face heat as he tightened his arms slightly around her, curling them even closer about her. “You- you shouldn’t call me love.”

“Hmm, shouldn’t I? Well, what shall I call you instead?” One hand came to press gently against her stomach, separated from her skin by the fabric of her dress and corset. She followed the guiding little tug he gave to lean back against him, nearly dropping her head back against his shoulder. “Shall I call you sweetheart? Darling? My Belle?”

She bit her lip to stifle the urge to smile, still nervous about the breaches in etiquette here. Housemaids did not let their employers wrap their arms around them and whisper sweet nothings in their ear, not without a hefty raise, at least. But this man was not the average highborn, arrogant lordling. He had worked with his hands and fought for something he believed in. He was kind to her, kinder than he would ever have been expected to be, but it did not entirely cure her of the niggling little fear at the root of her heart.

“Please do not say such things if you don’t mean them,” she whispered and hugged herself tighter. “I wouldn’t like to find out that you’re toying with me.”

“Oh, dearest, no,” he crooned on a breath. His hand came up to turn her face toward his over her shoulder, his rough fingertips tingling across the skin of her jaw. “I would not ever toy with you, not for the world. You are worth so much more than games to me, Belle. I would like-“

“Papa?”

Andrew took a surprisingly smooth step to the side, breaking all contact with her except for a hand resting politely between her shoulder blades too keep her from falling backwards. “Thank you for bringing my breakfast, Belle. It looks delicious.”

“Belle!” They both turned to see a finely dressed blur flying straight for Belle’s skirt and she crouched down to snatch him up from the floor, both of them giggling while the boy’s father looked on fondly. “Can we go out and fly kites today, Belle?”

“We have to finish lessons first, Bae, then we can play. And perhaps if Granny is feeling generous, she’ll pack a picnic for us and we can have lunch out in the gardens.”

“And Papa, you’ll come with us, right?” The boy reached past his nanny toward his father, eyes wide and pleading as the man hesitated but took the little hand in his. “Please, Papa?”

“Oh…. All right, son. I suppose my work could wait a few hours. But only if you focus on your lessons and don’t cause Belle here any trouble.”

Bae asked to have his lessons in his father’s study that morning and was immediately answered in the affirmative. As she set the child to tracing his letters Belle couldn’t help but keep glancing at her employer across the room, who seemed to be scribbling nonsense on a blank sheet of paper while he watched them working together in the streaming sunlight. Every time his eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but smile, wondering once again what he might take the next time their paths crossed on the railway. Or rather, what she would be willing to offer him.


	3. Roles Reversed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Familiar but somehow different. The classic roles are reversed.

Baron Anthony Gold hated London. He hated the bustle and the stink and the crowding. Most of all, he loathed his business partner. Regina ‘hearteater’ Mills. A ruthless, if somewhat easily excitable businesswoman new to the trading business. Unfortunately for Gold, she was already well established in the area and therefore one of the best sources for fencing his stolen goods. Despite her gaudy fashion sense and her constant complaints she was one of the best, and so Gold found himself stuffed into a carriage with the distasteful woman as he attempted to finish their business as quickly as possible and she attempted to name and berate every member of her estate staff for trivial mistakes. There was only one piece left and he tried determinedly to steer Regina back to the task at hand before the idea of jettisoning himself out into the fast moving traffic in the street seemed like the better option.

 

There seemed to be no helping the woman’s driving need to describe the exact faults of her serving staff, down to every last missed spot on every floor tile in the main hall of her lavish manse. How ridiculous.

“I told the girl not once, but twice to clean her shoes after she tended to my apple tree and after the third time I found mud tracked all through the- What the devil?!”

The door to his right had opened and shut in a moment, and before he’d had time to blink there was a delicate finger pressed to his lips and a pair of dazzlingly blue eyes staring intently at him. A woman had stepped up into the carriage like a shadow and was half crouched before him, one arm extended toward Regina with the gleam of a knife barely discernable beneath the cuff of her sleeve. Regina gave an entirely undignified squawk and opened her mouth to shout for help, shutting it with a gulp when the little knife dug gently into the fair skin of her throat.

The pickpocket was small, though the way she held herself shouted danger to any who would interfere with her task. Behind a surprisingly high quality tooled leather mask, her kohl-rimmed eyes barely fluttered in her determination to keep her eye on the entire situation. Twisting ringlets flowed down over her bared shoulders, brushing the tops of her breasts in time with the swaying of the carriage over the uneven cobblestones. That coupled with the plump, rose-colored lips and the tinge of pink that filled her cheeks left him completely charmed. It was a lovely view, despite the fact that he would soon be missing his purse and likely every bit of gold and silver that adorned his clothing. Perhaps, if he were clever enough, he could gently persuade her away from taking the bit that filled one of his teeth.

“Scream, dearie, and you’ll be dead before your coachman can climb down off his padded bench to see whatever is wrong with his mistress.”

Realization sparked through his mind like a hurricane. He would know that lovely, lilting accent anywhere. And yes, there was the little pendant he’d nearly lifted from her just weeks ago. This was his lovely little maid, his Belle. And she was robbing him. He grinned gleefully and settled into his seat to see what her next move would be. His prospects for the afternoon had just improved immensely.

“How dare you, you impudent little street urchin! Do you know who I am?!” Regina puffed herself up admirably consider that she was supposedly moments away from being permanently silenced. She would be concerned about her attacker being aware of her importance, the vain little cow.

“No, I can’t particularly say I know who you are, dearie, nor do I care.” Belle looked the other woman over as if she were a rodent caught in a trap and ready to be disposed of. Then her focus shifted, silent and deliberate as a panther, back to him. “This one, on the other hand.”

He arched one eyebrow and feigned boredom, pretending to notice a spot of dust on his pant leg. He kept his eyes down as he reached down to brush at it, certain that if he met her eyes just now he’d not be able to keep from cackling at the situation. “You’ve heard of me, then?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed. “The great Baron Gold. The successful new nobleman who dabbles in business with a haunting smile and an even more haunting fortune. Every lowlife and charlatan north of Epson has heard of you.”

“Mmm? Well, if that’s true, I’ll have to take on a few extra guards at the estate. Wouldn’t do to have my money taken by mere pickpockets.”

Her eyes sparkled at that challenge and he did smirk then, slouching further on the seat to bring her attention to the little purse tied at his waist. He’d hidden a larger one less obviously, tucked into the lining of his boot, though it was always amusing to catch a quick-fingered youth stumbling into him and catching themselves on his purse strings. Sometimes he even rewarded them with a coin or two if they were particularly skilled.

“Well,” she murmured, glancing down in what may have been a demure expression had he not nearly felt her gaze slipping along his trousers. “I wouldn’t underestimate us “mere pickpockets”. We always have a trick or two up our sleeves, you know.”

He’d nearly opened his mouth to ask her what tricks she possessed just as she pounced. Her skirt flew up to allow her to settle herself across his lap, her warm thighs hugging his. One slim-fingered little hand slipped into his hair and clenched tight around the strands, tugging his head back until he was looking straight up into her eyes. There was a tense moment of warm breath and pleasant pressure before her lips came crushing down against his. The gasp of disgust from his primped companion was lost on the pair as she led him in a forceful kiss, more bruising pressure than the teasing touches of their first encounter. Her sharp teeth nipped at his lower lip, her fingernails scratched his scalp as her hand drug down over his collar and down his chest. His hands clenched into fists in her skirts, resisting the temptation to jerk her against him and take advantage of every single inch of skin he could find access to. She would fit perfectly in his arms, warm and fragrant and soft as she was every time he happened upon her during the lazy afternoons in his estate and smuggled her away in some alcove for a kiss or two. More than one room had gone without it’s scheduled dusting because he required her attention more. But this…. His Belle was fierce. Her high little breasts rose and fell against his linen shirt and a quiet moan tickled across his lips from the back of her throat. She demanded that he give her everything he hid, her hand clutching nearly painfully at his side while she took from him everything but his sanity.

With a final run of her tongue over his lower lip, inflaming as much as it soothed, she leaned back and dangled his own purse in front of his nose. Her eyes were bright and dark at once, her lips swollen and reddened from the ferocity of their kiss. “You looked so good I just had to try a bit. Not quite worth the price of the gold, I’m afraid, though it was a good start.”

Then she was gone, stepping down out of the carriage, the door shutting behind her and she’d disappeared into the crowd before he could blink. Regina was speechless for all of a moment or two before she was screeching at him, at the driver, at the oblivious people passing her unfortunately open window. Why would he let the little trollop kiss him when he could have killed her as easily as breathing? If she found a single knick on her skin from that knife, the little whore would find herself strung up beside her peers on the waterfront before she knew what was what. And for the love of all that was holy, why wasn’t the carriage moving, damn the fool of a boy!

Gold heard not a word of her inharmonious complaints. He had the taste of Belle on his lips; the memory of her perfectly warm weight in his lap and every thought in his mind was of tracking the little vixen down and taking back his gold with a healthy amount of interest. He left Regina at the gates of her posh, fashionable home and spent the return to his own lodgings with his legs firmly crossed over a stubbornly prominent erection and plotting his revenge. What a surprise little Belle would find awaiting her on the next evening she happened to have need of the commuter train. He was suddenly of a mind to raise his price with innocent housemaids, really only sensible with the rising costs throughout the countryside. A kiss would not do any longer.

 

Belle studied the ornate carvings across the room, taking slow, deep breaths. Her feet were getting pinched in her fashionable but impractical shoes and she was tired. She’d travelled half the night to make it to town in time to enact her plan. It’d worked perfectly, and now she would reap the full benefits. As soon as this damned maid left and gave them some damned privacy! Finally, the door she stood behind was closed quietly and she was left alone in the room with her employer. He stood at the window, hands fiddling with something in front of him. She grinned and leaned back against the wall, crossing her ankles.

“I thought she’d never leave.”

The effect was instant. He whirled from the window and was crossing the room with long strides in moments. It was difficult to keep her easy confidence as he stalked toward her, torn between the assurance that he would never hurt her and the absolute ferocity in his expression. He was upon her so quickly that she didn’t have long to fear. He crushed her to the wall and lifted her nearly off her feet, lips finding hers with a near inhuman growl. Belle wrapped her arms around his shoulders and laughed into the kiss until he pressed his way into her mouth and she forgot her amusement entirely.

“….magnificent, clever, beautiful, sexy woman,” he muttered when they were finally forced to break apart for breath. His mouth trailed stinging kisses down her throat until he reached the neckline of her bodice. His hot breath rolled down between her breasts and her skin tingled where his stubble ground into her.

“So you’re not angry, then?”

The look he gave her could have melted rock. She imagined it would have been a very happy rock. He pressed close for a moment, until all she could see and feel about her was him. His hair and his arms and his focus. Then he pulled away completely and led her to an armchair in the corner of the ornate room. When he sat, he pulled her down into his lap, though gingerly enough that had she wished to object, she could have. Instead she only leaned against his chest and smoothed her hands over her skirt.

“Did you follow me all the way here, love?” His arms about her waist were almost as easy as the term of endearment, though not quite. His words he’d used since the beginning, but touching was something that neither was quite accustomed to yet. “You must have or else….”

Belle tried to hide her face against his shoulder but his fingers tipped her chin up and his finger traced over the darker skin under her eyes. He made a sympathetic noise before ghosting his lips over the bruises as well. Every sleepless hour was worth that feeling, his fingers on her neck and the fluttering in the base of her spine. Gentle touches and quiet comfort quickly gave way to fused lips and wandering hands. When a tentative prod to her laces informed her of Anthony’s intention she pushed him away and made to stand.

“I should go,” she gasped, attraction and panic waging a war in her that left her so muddled that she was glad when his arm became banded steel around her back and kept her from rising on shaky legs.

“Go where,” he demanded, mouth hovering just over her skin, but fingers stroking calmingly at her sides. “Belle, where will you go? Do you have a room let elsewhere?”

“Well, no, not yet. My things are hidden away in the servant’s wing but it seems best that I go.” She couldn’t help laugh when he only grumbled and pulled her closer. “We’ve talked about this, Anthony. I care for you but I know my place and I won’t forget it so easily because of your roguish charm.”

He chuckled and pressed a final kiss to her collarbone before lifting his head to look at her. “Don’t forget my haunting smile.”

“Mmm,” she murmured. “Especially that.”

“Oh, Belle,” he sighed and framed her face with his hands. It would always astound her how such a simple touch could make her stomach jump. “We both know your place hasn’t been what it was for some time. You aren’t just a housemaid anymore. You’re….”

Belle smiled ruefully at his lack of a term for what she was to him, what they were to each other. This time when she pulled away, he let her go. She didn’t blame him, but she also couldn’t deny to herself how much it hurt her that he couldn’t speak the words that would make their dalliances legitimate. A Baron did not simply profess his love for his housemaid, and when he did, it was never without the fear that he would lose interest and she would topple back to unemployment and torment for rising above her station. She would gather her things from where she’d hidden them beneath a stack of towels in the servant’s wing and find a place across town to rest her suddenly heavy head for the night.

“Belle.”

She turned reluctantly and was startled to find Anthony kneeling before her. He took both her hands in his and she watched dumbly as he brought them to his chest, looking at his thumbs stroking over her knuckles instead of up at her. His heart beat quickly under her fingers and she forced herself to breathe, deep and slow.

“You are…. remarkable. Hardly anyone in my life has caused quite the stir you have. You have never been just a housemaid. I don’t believe you have ever been just anything.” His eyes, when he finally raised them to her face, were warm and frightened in equal measure. “Will you- Would you agree to be….. my partner in crime?”

Belle’s breath left her in a great whoosh and for a moment she felt faint. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the ceiling, sure for a moment that he was mocking her. His touch never faltered and she could feel his eyes on her, unassuming and patient- as patient as he could be. Her shoes pinched at her feet and her eyes drooped with tiredness. She wanted to take her hair down and sleep and she wanted this to be easier between them. Partner in crime, indeed. But the word struck a spark in her mind and caught fire. Partner. He asked her to be his partner. Not his wife or his mistress. In that regard she would never be his equal, much that she would have access to all that he did. She was a woman, and a woman without a fancy title or a large sum of money. But as his partner…

She looked down at him with the comprehension of his meaning. He’d asked her to guard his back and allow him to guard hers. He’d asked her to share everything he acquired; however he acquired it. He’d asked her to be his equal in all matters. The smile that spread across her face reflected the blossom of warmth that had begun to spread through her body. What did pinching shoes and lack of sleep matter? She’d received something much better than a marriage proposal.

“Well,” she whispered, afraid to scream her joy to the streets below if she raised her voice any more. Her vision blurred with tears, but she thought she heard Anthony half-sob. “There’ll be quite a bit of learning that must be done before we can go out marauding together.”

She wrapped her hands around his shirt collar and pulled until he rose to his feet. He brushed away the tears already streaming freely down her face and put his arms around her. He was shaking, and she wondered if she was too. They were both smiling fit to split their faces and she slid her hands over his arms, trailing slowly over the fabric of his shirtsleeves and reveling in the fact that she could touch him. She was his partner, not his employee. He was hers now, just as much as she was his.

“Oh yes,” she sighed as she draped her arms about his shoulders and pressed her fingers against the silky hairs at the base of his neck, warm and soft and twitching under her touch. “Quite a bit of learning. But don’t worry. I have no doubt you’ll soon catch me up, love.”

Kissing and laughing and bursting with joy soon left Belle dizzy again, but somehow she couldn’t find it in her to care. They’d spend the night in town together, cuddled together like kittens in rented suite. Then the real work began. She’d been thinking that perhaps trains were no longer the ideal targets for their attentions….

.

.

.

“How very….. interesting…” A thick stream of smoke rose from the cigarette held between a pair of smiling, sardonic lips. The clink of a pair of gold-inlaid looking glasses being set down rang through the room. “I’ll have to keep a close eye on those two, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

There was no response except a dazzling glint of silver in the corner of the room. The cigarette was extinguished with a cruel laugh and one perfectly manicured hand reached up to give the curtains a firm tug, leaving the room in murky, smoky darkness.


End file.
